


frail love

by casfallsinlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Time, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5706250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casfallsinlove/pseuds/casfallsinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s been in love with Cas for a long ass time. But it’s only now that he starts to think that’s not such a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	frail love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a day and haven't really checked it so apologies for any mistakes.

Having Cas human and in the bunker for good is different from how Dean thought it would be.

Cas does this thing where he leaves little notes around, to himself and sometimes to Sam and Dean, and he grows plants outside and tends to the wildflowers that creep towards the front steps, and he leaves books all over the place with random receipts for makeshift bookmarks and he never picks his wet towel up off the bathroom floor and he goes running every evening and he collects honey and makes jam that he sells at the farmers market and it's great, it's so fucking great, getting to discover this side of Cas. Dean loves it wholly, every squint and frown and tiny smile, loves the way Cas nurtured an orphaned baby raccoon until it was old enough to survive on its own, and the way he goes out to feed the birds in the morning, and that he wears Dean's old band shirts to go running and they come back darkened with sweat and clinging to the curves and ridges of his body.

Claire comes to visit sometimes. It makes Cas go all… _fatherly_. Which is probably fucked up, but in the grand scheme of their lives, caring too much hardly seems like the worst thing to do. Dean drives them all to Dairy Queen one Saturday which makes Claire pout and grumble about how she’s not a little kid but she gets sprinkles on her ice cream and laughs when Sam spills his banana split down his shirt and Dean watches her pocket the plastic bracelet she wins in the vending machine when she thinks no one is looking. To her, Dean will always be the guy who slaughtered a room full of people and Cas will always be the guy who took her dad away, but they’re trying.

For Christmas, Dean strings lights all over the bunker and polishes the silverware and even goes out with an ax and comes back with a smallish tree to sit in the corner of the war room. He buys a star to go on top. Sam spikes the eggnog, _again_ , and Cas hooks two fingers in Dean’s collar and reels him in for a soft kiss under the mistletoe. He tastes like rum and cinnamon. Dean licks it from his mouth and Cas grins at him afterwards, easy.

Dean’s been in love with Cas for a long ass time. But it’s only now that he starts to think that’s not such a bad thing.

New Year’s passes in a fever haze for Dean, who catches the flu and goes down like a sapling in a snowstorm. It’s unfair, he never gets sick, his immune system is as strong as an ox--which he croaks constantly to Cas and Sam, who hush him with soup and NyQuil as they tag-team playing nurse.

Dean doesn’t properly bounce back until just a couple of weeks before his birthday, by which point enough time has passed since that kiss that it feels like a gaping chasm of doubt and anxiety has spread out between himself and Cas to the point where Dean actively starts avoiding him--which is easier said than done when Cas keeps shuffling after him in holey socks and baggy hoodies, not trying to talk but just wanting to be nearby, like Dean’s going to sneeze his brains out through his nose if left alone.

So Dean starts cooking more, because breakfast food is a language he does know. He silently presents Cas with waffles and bacon, scrambled egg, toast slathered in Cas’s own apricot jam. Sometimes he has to take it outside, to where Cas is gardening or communing with nature or whatever. Which is nice. Dawn in Kansas is fucking freezing in January, but Dean layers up in scarves and hats and always takes an extra pair of gloves out for Cas, who still forgets shit like that and gets aching fingers where the cold has cut through to the bone.

When Dean’s birthday rolls around, he legitimately forgets until he opens his bedroom door and finds a bunch of balloons outside. They're offensively bright orange and yellow and tied to his door handle with red ribbon, but written across the biggest one in black sharpie are the words “happy birthday Dean” with a little cartoon smiley-face sun drawn underneath.

He hates his birthday. Has done since he was 13 and had to spend the day looking after Sam in a dingy motel room because Dad was out of town and Sam had a stomach bug. Sammy kept apologizing through his tears, over and over, for ruining Dean’s birthday, his cheek pressed to the toilet seat, like it was his fault their dad was a piece of shit.

Still, he plasters on a smile as he walks into the kitchen, where Sam and Cas are waiting for him with a bottle of beer and a pecan pie. His smile turns real, then, and they don't exactly have a party but Cas lets Dean take control of the TV remote and Sam patches Donna and Jody in on Skype to say hi and when he's about to go to bed late that night, long after his birthday is officially over again for another year, Cas touches his wrist, his upper arm, his neck, and presses his open mouth to the bolt of Dean’s jaw. Dean shudders, angling his head just so, catching the swell of Cas’s lower lip between his own.

Cas leans into it with his whole body, arms coming up around Dean’s neck, hips pushing forward. They kiss for a while, long enough for Dean’s lips to go tingly and numb, and his brain to start feeling mushy and sleepy, so he drags Cas out of the hallway and into his room, his bed, until they're pressed up together under the covers.

In the morning, Dean wakes up with a raging hard on and stale breath but he kisses Cas awake anyway, nosing into the soft curl of hair behind his ear and the sweaty hollow of his clavicle and he likes how Cas flushes red all over his chest and the breathy little moans he makes as he wakes up. Cas rolls on top of him at some point and he's a solid weight bearing Dean into the memory foam. Dean places his palms on the warm skin where Cas’s shirt is all rucked up, feels the muscles underneath tremble and quake. He bucks up, and Cas pushes down, and Dean gasps in an unsteady breath that catches in his throat when he feels Cas’s dick through their boxers, hard and hot. And this is amazing, he can't believe they waited so long for this--they could have had this for _years._

Cas’s eyes are so, so blue. He looks at Dean like he's something special, there's so much fondness there, so much love.

Dean mutters pleas into Cas’s mouth, digs his fingers into the planes of Cas’s back--and god, Cas is so _thick_ , when did he get so damn hot?--and holds on for the ride.

He comes in his pants for the first time since he was a teenager, shuddering out Cas’s name and a string of swear words, head thrown back into the pillow, and Cas goes stiff on top of him, eyes scrunched shut. Dean looks down because he has to, he’s so blissed out and Cas is so fucking gorgeous in everything he does, and watching a wet patch spread over the grey cotton of his boxers is possibly the hottest thing he has ever seen. Dean grabs him and kisses him ferociously. He pulls the blankets back over them from where they slipped off and sighs happily into Cas’s hair.

“We’re so doing that again. And again, and again, and again.”

Cas hums, fingers stroking the fine hair at Dean’s temples. “Did you have a nice birthday?”

Dean shuts his eyes. He pinches his thigh, just to make sure this is real. “The best.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://casfallsinlove.tumblr.com/)


End file.
